


build a house in paradise

by nextstopparis



Series: honey, i love you [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Slice of Life, blink and you'll miss it morgwen, fluff fluff fluffidy fluff fluff, ive never actually been married or liked/craved oranges so, you'll hve to excuse whatever inaccuracies those two unknowns bring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nextstopparis/pseuds/nextstopparis
Summary: Arthur wakes to the sensation of long fingers carding through his hair.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: honey, i love you [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843912
Comments: 14
Kudos: 105





	build a house in paradise

**Author's Note:**

> slice of life is literally. my favourite fucking thing to read. so obviously i had to write it.
> 
> inspired by the first two lines of frank ocean's "golden girl", which is also where the title comes from. i hope you enjoy!

_[He] peels an orange for us in the morning_

_[He] woke me up to give me half_

* * *

Arthur wakes to the sensation of long fingers carding through his hair. They brush his bangs up and to the side, before the hand they’re attached to slips down to cup his cheek. The pad of a thumb brushes smoothly under his eye.

Sighing, he blinks his eyes open, and then immediately groans and flips onto his back. Sunlight’s spilling in through the window and right onto his bloody face, threatening to blind him. A snort makes him blink again, and he momentarily stares at the ceiling before his gaze wanders and lands on a dressed, hair slightly ruffled, smirking Merlin.

(He loves Saturdays.)

“Good morning,” Merlin whispers, and there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, as if he’s still laughing at Arthur’s feud with the sun and valiant efforts to keep his vision. He tries his hardest to not smile and fails, and then pinches Merlin’s side to hear his laugh out loud. 

“God, you’re such a prat,” Merlin huffs, breath only a little hard from laughing, and Arthur rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide his fondness.

“You help me start my day with the most encouraging words,” Arthur replies dryly, and then groans, again, trying to sit up. Merlin’s hand slips from his cheek to grip his arm, steadying him on his way to be vertical. Not that he needs _help_ sitting up in bed, mind. Saturdays just make it harder to shake the bone deep contentment of lying in bed. 

Once up, Arthur takes time to stretch and rub his face, only dimly aware of Merlin scooting up and closer on the bed, his hand now settling on Arthur’s thigh.

The room’s a little cold from the lingering chill of January, but the bed’s warm from where he’d just spent his most peaceful night in over four weeks. Merlin, too, is a body of heat in front of him, and Arthur does his best not to lean in too closely.

“That’s what I’m for.”

Still a little rumpled with sleep, Arthur does his very best to muster his most annoyed looking glare, opening his mouth to say that _no, actually, it’s not_. Except before he can so much as take a breath, he’s rudely (or gloriously, but that’s neither here nor there) interrupted by Merlin sighing - as if _he’s_ the one with any right to be exasperated - and tenderly kissing his cheek. 

Since it’s an acceptable apology, he lets it go.

Arthur returns the kiss with two of his own, and then wonders out loud - voice hushed, to keep the perfect stillness and contentment of waking up late to his husband’s face - why Merlin decided to wake him up. 

They’ve had a schedule for three years now, regarding Saturdays: Merlin wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn and goes grocery shopping for the week (because he actually _likes_ being awake that early, something Arthur will never understand, and doesn’t trust Arthur to handle their food) (although that last excuse is bullshit, because he knows that Merlin just finds some weird comfort in the whole browsing for food/buying food in the early morning thing. It’s only slightly odd, but Arthur’s not about to complain about something that lets him sleep longer). Usually, Merlin will get back and sort everything out while he waits for Arthur to wake up so that they can have tea together. On very (very very) rare occasions, because he wakes early enough for work on weekdays, thank you very much, Arthur might join him to the store.

(But also, being woken up with a hand in his hair isn’t unpleasant. So maybe they should revise that schedule a bit.)

Merlin shrugs and holds his other hand out, revealing an orange resting in his palm. Arthur, embarrassingly, can almost feel his own eyes lighting up.

“What -?”

“Saw them at the store today and they looked pretty high in quality,” he said, “thought I’d wake you since you’d been craving _a_ good _orange,_ Mer _lin, not those flimsy insults to nature_ .” Merlin's voice goes a little high and posh in his attempt (his _failed_ attempt) to imitate Arthur. 

Arthur, who just gives him an annoyed look, but otherwise sits and waits patiently, like the saint he is, for a taste. He watches Merlin’s nimble fingers as they peel and tear the fruit in half, and forces himself to not do anything cheesy and stupid, like take them away from the fruit and kiss them.

The usual citric tang floods his senses, making his mouth water in anticipation. It’s the strangest thing - Arthur doesn’t even really _like_ oranges all that much. But then last week, when he and Merlin were lying on the couch ( _alright,_ they were cuddling) watching Martha Jones save the world, he’d suddenly _needed_ to taste one again, so much so that he could almost smell it. And now here he was, excited to taste it again.

Gingerly taking half of it from Merlin’s sticky fingers, he separates a carpel from the rest and puts it in his mouth. The responding explosion of flavor - sweet and just a little sour, filling his mouth with small, concentrated bursts of juice - when he bites down is enough to drag a contented sigh from him. 

Merlin starts laughing at him again, and really - with the sun outlining him in gold, and his eyes looking soft and fond and as happy as Arthur - he has no choice but to seal their sticky lips together in a messy kiss, breathing a quiet _thank you_.

The orange and Merlin are sweet and fresh on his tongue.

*******

Their Saturday passes just as any other: after they share the orange together in bed, stealing kisses between the lulls in their conversations, they head town for some tea. 

Sometime after two, Merlin leaves for a few hours, first to get a new coat and then to stop by Gwen and Morgana’s place to return a book (Morgana had said that she needed it back _right away_ , and everyone knows better than to antagonize her). 

Arthur makes use of having the flat to himself for a few hours by deciding to clean - better to get it over with himself rather than wait for Merlin, he rationalizes, this way they can have the whole afternoon to themselves.

He’s in the shower when Merlin gets back at around five thirty (with a few more things than a new coat, and after _apparently_ being caught up arguing with Morgana about the importance of some character’s arc to villainy and whatnot, as Merlin tells him later during dinner). Arthur’s about to turn off the water and step out, but is intercepted and _deceived_ (or: kissed until he’s forgotten that he even wants to leave the shower in the first place) by Merlin joining him. 

They kiss lazily under the steady spray of the water, warm drops rushing down their bodies, for a bit and giggle for a good minute when Arthur forces Merlin to let him turn his hair into a mohawk with the shampoo. 

Arthur’s the first one to step out, hating the feeling of his fingers pruning, but Merlin follows only minutes after, pouting as if to say _it’s not fun alone_. Which is absurd because it’s a _shower_ , but Arthur smirks and kisses the back of his neck on his way out the room, anyway, letting the pleased warmth spread through his veins.

Once they’re both dressed and hungry, Merlin forces him to take the wine bottle Morgana and Gwen had gifted them for their anniversary to the living room, while he heats up the spaghetti from the previous night.

("This bottle is more expensive than every item in my childhood room combined," Merlin had complained when Morgana had handed it to him - except it was all a facade because no matter what he says about hating the 1% and wanting to eat the rich - which, gross - and all his grousing about being a forced class traitor, Merlin loves expensive things almost as much as Morgana does, and indulges both himself and Arthur more often than not) (not that Arthur will point this out to him ever again, though - he learned his lesson the first time, when Merlin chased him around the flat and noogied him until he took it back - the bloody menace. Arthur loves him to death). 

Near the end of the night, once the spaghetti’s eaten and gone, and the TV is has become white noise to their comfortable silence rather than white noise to their bickering and quiet conversation, Merlin kisses him with red, wine-stained lips. It doesn’t turn into anything more than a quick snog, but Arthur’s lips still tingle with it ten minutes later while he waits for Merlin to finish brushing his teeth and get into bed.

Five minutes after that - maybe less - all the lights are off, and Merlin’s spooning him from behind, his breath already a warm and steady gust on the back of his neck.

Arthur drifts off, lulled to sleep by Merlin’s solid weight against his back and the constant replay of the day in his mind. He smiles at how good it was - how lovely and happy everything _finally_ feels - and fancies he can still smell and taste the orange from that morning.

On Sunday, he wakes to Merlin’s hair in his face and itching his nose.

**Author's Note:**

> on the topic of orange carpels (thx for the name, google), while writing this i remembered that in elementary by best friend slapped me with one. ive never been so thoroughly speechless.
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading! :D


End file.
